


Best Bet I Ever Took

by Aurelious_auria



Series: Forsaken: Retold [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dealing With Loss, Death, Destiny 2 DLC, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, F/M, Forsaken, Forsaken DLC, Graphic Violence, Loss, as in, dealing with Uldren Sov to deal with the loss, domestic couples creating violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-08-19 03:05:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelious_auria/pseuds/Aurelious_auria
Summary: Sherazade is an Awoken Warlock, a daughter of the void and a wielder of ancient knowledge and power. Her boyfriend, Cayde-6, likes shooting guns and wearing capes. They're a good couple, and together they can take down anything.Together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Biozonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biozonic/gifts).



“A date idea” Is what he’d said it was, as he hurriedly gathered equipment from the Vanguard armory; guns, more guns, ammunition, grenades and other things Guardians had no use for in such quantities, including knives. A Hunter thing, no doubt. 

 

“What ‘date idea’ requires transporting two tons of C4?” Sherazade implored, arms crossed neatly across her robed chest, shoulders leaning up against a metal rack as she watched her boyfriend flit about. Her eyes, a luminous Awoken gray, tracked his movements with a sort of casual interest, dark-hued lips twisted upward into a half-smile.

 

Having dated him this long, she had grown accustomed to his antics, such that where even confusing acts such as this one simply amused her-- and served as more or less of a baseline for his other, more anxiety-provoking behaviors.

 

Like leaving cups sitting on the edges of tables. She hated it when he did that.

 

“A spontaneous one!” He called from another room, trying to sound cheerful. Shera only rolled her eyes, letting her head loll backward on her shoulders onto the shelf, hair fanning out around her head in a silky black pool.

 

“Who is escaping from where, and how much time do we have?” The Warlock projected, raising her head a fraction at the sound of Cayde rounding the corner again, two sets of extra-strength restraining manacles in each hand. “Who said anything about escaping?” He questioned back, eyes round and falsely-innocent.

 

Shera looked down at the cuffs and raised her eyebrows.

 

“Alright, alright. We shouldn’t be talking about this here, not until we get to the prison, but Petra needs help. I’m packing extra for the Corsairs.” He dismissed with a vague explanation, moving past her to shove the restraints in the only compartment left open in his ship. He slid the cover back over its haphazard contents, and gave it a couple of cheerful clanging pats before clambering up to the front of his ship to settle into the cockpit. “Don’t tell Zavala I went through his stuff, please?”

 

“Mum’s the word.” His Warlock companion chirped, climbing aboard to take the seat next to him, smile already adorning her face at the prospect of some time out in the field with the man she loved. She’d been developing a couple new moves to impress him with, too…

 

“I’m not your mother, but I’m sure she’d be  _ super _ proud if she could see you now.”

 

Lord, he could be so stupid. But that did manage to get a laugh out of her. “Come on, let’s go. You promised me a date.” She ordered through a smile, buckling her seat belt.

 

“Right right. Next stop, the Prison of Elders!”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherazade and Cayde-6 dropped onto the shredded wreck of the Prison of Elder’s upper deck like Guardians always do; stylishly, in a glimmering burst of light. Waiting for them on the steps ahead, purposefully looking unimpressed,

 

“Petra Venj!” Cayde called excitedly. “Thanks for the invite. Whatcha packing for this party?”

 

“Meh, the usual.” She hummed, coy smile over her face. In a flourish, a knife appeared in her right hand, and a twinkle in her uncovered eye.

 

“Ooh! Do the thing!” The Vanguard asked suddenly, the electric white-blue of his eyes flashing animatedly, and both he and his girlfriend leaned in expectantly, practically begging her with their eyes alone to perform.

 

Petra only smiled, her gaze on the knife as it lifted out of her palm by some unseen force, and twirled in the air above it suspended by nothing before she snatched it back using the same hand. Beside Shera, Cayde shivered. “That’ll never not freak me out.” He mumbled.

 

“Do it again!”

 

“Later.” Petra denied firmly, sheathing the weapon in place of her sidearm. “ _ Maybe.  _ Right now gen-pop is running wild. Fortunately, the main arena and lower levels remain on lockdown. But if the core systems fail…” The Awoken warrior turned to glance at the prison entrance, fear momentarily passing through her irises. “Containment is going to be… a problem.”

 

“Sounds like we have our job cut out for us.” Shera mused, a sarcastic smile turning her features. Petra nodded towards her with similar false positivity.

 

The conversation over, Cayde began loading his hand cannon, eager to get in on the action. “All right hot stuff, this is a Cayde riff in 6, watch me for the changes, and uh…”

 

He paused his stroll towards the edge of the catwalk to smirk back at his partner, only to find that she was no longer in front of him, but rather already at the front entrance while her Ghost, Sheyar, operated the mechanism. “Try to keep up~” Shera teased in a sing-song voice, a smirk of her own pressed over her deep blue lips.

 

With a rattling click and a series of metallic booms, the door loosened and slid open, and Shera stepped backward through it, cocking her Graviton Lance with a musical  _ chk _ . “Now let’s go to prison!” She hollered, raising her hands on either side of her head like she was announcing a family roadtrip. With perfect timing, the door deactivated, sliding back into place with a resounding thud as the exo looked on.

 

Enamored by her display, he whooped a drawn out “WOOOHOO!” And laughed at the memory of her departure, then jumped off the ledge to join in on the fight from the lower levels.


	3. Chapter 3

Petra wasn’t lying… Gen-pop was running wild. All around Sherazade, Fallen, Cabal, Hive and you-name-it were fighting like as if doomsday was on the horizon and they only had two hours left to act like heathens. A shame that she had shown up to crash their party so soon.

 

Everywhere the caster turned, her steel-silver eyes found targets and dispatched them with cold resolve, their falling bodies cobbling a pathway through the containment area on her way over to--  _ BOOM _ .

 

A sudden, earth-shattering explosion nearly blew her off of her feet, forcing the Awoken warrior to seal her boots to the floor using void magic just to stay upright. Immediately, urgency took hold of her actions and directed her sight towards the source of the blast; from behind a massive Cabal Centurion that had been battling with a scattered contingency of Fallen by the East wall.

 

“Woah! Who’s blowing up stuff without me?” A robotic voice complained over Shera’s communicator, and she snorted. “Don’t get jealous, we only just started.” Came her amused admonishment. Somewhere in the background, Petra snorted out a laugh. “I’m going to go get eyes on whatever caused that. Be careful you two, I think a few more cells got knocked open.”

 

The alien commander gargled an agonized, watery death rattle before falling forward with a deafening thud-- and from the gap in the wall behind it, innumerable prisoners began to pour into the chamber like water flooding a sinking boat, creating a very convenient exit.

 

_ Bingo _ .

 

A clip slapped into Shera's magazine, and she continued where she’d left off; introducing bullet lead to foreheads while leaving bursts of deadly purple energy to scramble the forces in her wake. By the time she’d reached the blast wound, there wasn’t a single enemy left in sight-- a satisfied look over her shoulder gave the Guardian the confirmation she needed. It was a good warm-up though she couldn’t imagine the battles would be quite so easy from there on in. 

 

“You holding up over there, Cayde?” Shera questioned her teammate through her ghost. “I haven’t heard any gunshots in the past six seconds.” The exo seemed to have taken her comment as a dare, as two seconds later, three bangs proceeded another large explosion, this time coming from his direction. “Living life on the edge, sweetheart! Come on over and grab some action for yourself. You wouldn’t want me to end up having all the fun now, would you?”

 

“I like the sound of that!” She responded, invigorated. Vaulting through the aperture, she reminded herself with a grin how grateful she was to have her boyfriend at her back during this mess-- he always did have a way of making operations like these feel easier to endure.

 

When Sherazade reached the second hallway, the sound of one weapon in particular firing just beyond the wall to her right alerted her to her fireteam’s location, and she felt her pace quicken at the prospect of fighting by Cayde’s side.

 

Before she knew it, she was running full-tilt for the nearest cell block overlook, her robe streaming behind her like a cape-- the roar of battle bombarding her senses and dividing themselves out by their natures. One warcry in particular-- the rattling bellow of a charging Knight-- alerted her, from not far away. Moments later, she spied the behemoth thundering down the corridor towards her from an overarching catwalk, a sword the size of a car raised above its head like a guillotine, ready to strike.

 

Sharpening her focus, Sherazade charged up a Nova Bomb. It was time to shine.

Twenty meters away an closing, Shera threw back her left shoulder, springing off the ground at its feet, meeting the blade halfway, then--

 

_ Crack. _ It met her hand.

**_FFFSHOOOM!_ **

 

The alien's entire body rebounded, transforming from its thick, bone-like armor into shreds of papery purple Hive-confetti in a matter of seconds.

 

The Voidwalker landed on a knee and a hand, then glanced to her side to find that much to her pleasure, Cayde had been right below watching her the whole time. “Beautiful day for walk, wouldn't you say?” She hollered over to him triumphantly, casting a grenade from her hip as she rose to her feet and faced him, just in case any of the enemies gathered at her back had taken aim… she wasn’t about to let anyone ruin her superstar moment with a lucky shot.

 

“I'm having the time of my life!” Cayde yelled back, dashing down a waystation ramp to greet her, and soon, the firefight ahead.

 

Her grenade detonated, and three Cabal Legionaries that had been hiding beneath the bridge waiting for their moment to strike, erupted into a glorious arc of violet-tinged electricity. She cackled, elated at the result. “We should come here more often!”

 

Sliding under the bridge, Cayde twirled the Ace of Spades through his fingertips before its barrel found a path to the nearest Legionary’s head, one member of group of three taking shots at the hive soldiers funneling down the block ahead. He took the poor, unsuspecting bastard out with a single shot, a vibrating guttural groan escaped its newly exposed mouth as it grasped helplessly at the ruptured mask, death taking it quickly.

 

At the first fatality, its fellows turned around, the small pinpoints of red light serving as their eyes zeroing in on Cayde with the intent to kill, without so much as a glance towards their fallen brother. “Not even going to ask if he’s okay? Harsh.” Cayde commented, taking aim.

 

Two more bullets was all it took to wipe the murderous looks off their faces permanently; both of their corpses toppling forward to reveal every eye in the corridor now focused between himself and his date. The Hunter slid three more rounds into the chamber of his gun, and from somewhere above, he hears a magazine clack back into the stock of an auto rifle.

 

Now the night could really begin.

 

“Hey you, hold this for me?” The Vanguard proposed to a nearby Psion, and tossed a grenade, the stare-down turning into a showdown the moment it connected with its chest-- converting them to a generous pile of solar ash. On the catwalk above, his girlfriend began her steady rain of hellfire from above, bullets embedding themselves in skulls the moment their target’s gazes left her crosshairs, generating a joyful clinking of casings as they littered the tiles behind him. It was like the pitter-patter of hollow, metal raindrops. 

 

He looked toward the enemies waiting ahead. “Cover me?”

“Always!”

 

Cayde advanced on a security blockade, peering around its side to examine the front end of a phalanx’s barricading shield, then dodged out of cover to unload his entire clip into its weak center. The fluctuating wall of light it was bolstering collapsed and the beast staggered, unable to avoid turning its head into a shiny red target in the process. After reloading, it was a quick kill. “Nice shooting, sheriff!” Came his partner’s voice over his communicator.

 

The Gunslinger grinned at the comment, prepared to reply, when the sound of something heavy  approaching quickly from behind threw him off guard. When he turned, it was just in time to see the hulking, gargantuan shadow of a Gladiator descending upon him. 

 

“Woah woah, not the face!” Cayde flustered, aware that he was about to take the hit head-on, but unable to resist getting in a one-liner before the cleaver hit. Then, all at once, the creature halted in its tracks and shrunk to half its height, collapsing into a lifeless mound on the ground just inches from before where he stood, revealing a smoking hole punched through the back of its head.

 

Its killer, smiling from the second floor walkway, brought her Graviton Lance to rest against her shoulder, burning with smug and well-deserved confidence.

 

“Not bad, for a bookworm!” He taunted, and she threw her head back in a haughty laugh, eyes glimmering with a mixture of mischief and excitement. Immediately, Cayde’s expression flipped from a playful smirk into a devilish grin. That look… he knew that look well. He’d seen it in times where she’d been issued a challenge by either himself or other Guardians; and whether it was casually in earnest, if it intrigued her, she’d get that look in her eye moments before she pulled out all the stops…. And it was always a sight to behold.

 

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” Sherazade boasted, and returned her weapon to its holster on her back. Without breaking eye contact, the Warlock’s figure began to shift, and the space around her silhouette warped ever so slightly, distorting the air around her until an aura of fierce, bright purple encased her.

 

And then, she was gone.

 

Cayde flinched in surprise, unsure of whether or not he had imagined what he’d just seen, scrutinizing through narrowed eyes the spot he had last seen her in his confusion. “Honey? Where’d you go?” He pauses. “Are you mad at me? I didn’t mean it! I--”

 

The unmistakable chorus of an oncoming hoard of Hive distracted him from his apology, and he rotated to catch an eyeful of monsters pouring down the corridor he’d been traversing, lead by an ugly, screaming wizard easily twice his height. “You’re killing me, woman.” He grumbled, hoping the statement wouldn’t prove true in the following encounter.

 

The opening shot hadn’t even left the barrel of his gun when she reappeared, and his hand cannon nearly fell out of his grip. Engulfed in surging void energy that vibrated off of every inch of her body, Sherazade’s hair and robes billowed around her in slow-motion, as if she were suspended in a vacuum, hovering two feet above the ground.

 

He’d have never recognized her if it weren’t for the strain of black hair flowing like waves in an endless night behind her head, and in that single, unbroken moment, she looked absolutely ethereal; like something straight out of a fairy tale. Then, in one deft, soundless movement, she brought her hands together by her side, and angled her opposite shoulder forward. His eyes barely followed the movement, half in shock, and the other half enraptured.

 

Then he noticed the tiny nova bomb expanding inside of her grasp. His eyes went wide. “No.  _ Way. _ ” He breathed.

 

The abyssal monstrosity gave a horrid screech as the handheld supernova collided with its chest, disintegrating it into a thousand bug-scented shreds, still glowing and thrumming with resonating Light. With its leader seemingly ejected out of reality itself, the army below descended into a cacophony of fearful keening, scattering from the source of the gravity well like living shrapnel. 

 

Cayde hardly even made a move as he watched the love of his life teleport in and out of existence, turning every escaping hostile into a fine powder as she went about dyeing the battlefield the color of violet. When she finally put boots on the ground once more, it was atop a catwalk a few hundred feet further down the hall from his current location, where she bent over and took hold of her knees, breathing hard into her chest while breath returned to her.

 

Cayde couldn’t help it. His chest swelled with pride, reminded that even after all the time they spent together on and off of the battlefield, his girl still managed to impress him and show him just how incredible she really is as a woman, and a warrior.

 

He bounded forward to re-enter the fray, motivated by her display, laughter and a brightened smile on his lips. “Now that’s my  _ baby _ !” Gunshots rang out from his hand cannon like applause. “Wooooo- _ HOO! _ ”

 

From up top, the voidlock giggled, her head finally ceasing its relentless spinning to allow her to re-assess their surroundings. They were already at the end of the cell block-- or rather, what was  _ now  _ the end of the cell block, due to the the unfortunate circumstance of its remainder getting turned into rubble somehow during the chaos. At least if provided a pleasant view of the security hub, suspended in the air by just a few very determined cables, across the gap ahead.

 

Undaunted, Shera clambered up to the fourth floor of the block, balancing precariously on strips of abused partitions, former ceilings, floors, walls, and other unidentified pieces of jail cell to find a spot by the ledge where she could calculate the distance of the gap. From far below, she could just faintly make out the sound of her boyfriend’s voice yelling up at her, no doubt proclaiming something silly and obvious.

 

“You can get to the security hub through the next transit duct around the waystation below us.” She notified him through her ghost, eyes tracing an invisible path between their location, and the one remaining bridge connecting the rest of the prison to the hub. “It drops down a bit into what looks like a shootout between the Hive and some very angry looking Cabal, but you’re a people person. I’m sure you can convince them to calm down.”

 

“One way or another.” He rang back. “Wait-- ‘you?’ As in, me, without you? Where are you going?!”

 

She smiled to herself, honing in on the nearest edge of the circular station she can see, and crouched down from her full height to coil her legs up underneath her like a pair of springs. Without another word, she leaped from her perch into the air with all of the poise and grace of an olympic skater, arms stretched out behind her as she glided through the air as effortlessly as a swan. “Through a shortcut! See you soooooon~” Her voice echoed off the walls, adding to the effect of her voice receding into the distance.

 

Cayde snickered, only slightly jealous of her jumping capabilities, and took the path to the right. Just another day serving justice with the bae.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Cayde to reach the security hub through all of the chaos, not only battling beasts and prisoners, but broken refuse and missing pathways as well.

 

The task before him now, however, was a little more challenging.

 

“I… can’t… move… the handle!” Shera cried, exasperated, abandoning all attempts to shift the obstinate handle downward after giving it one final, desperate, human elbow.

 

“Don’t think wrestling moves are gonna do the job, this time.” Cayde observed, watching it all play out with amusement from the sidelines.

 

“If you’re so much better at it then  _ you _ try!” She fired back, gesturing at him with open arms. Shrugging back, he was about to call Petra to announce their technological defeat, when his girlfriend’s ghost-- Sheyar-- emerged from within the confines of her robe to add his two cents.

 

“Actually, I was thinking, if you purge the buffers and start a reboot, it might work.”

 

“What are those?!” She hissed, still frustrated, but accepting his course of action. “ _ Where _ are those?!”

 

The tiny robot did a ninety degree turn, gazing over the vast array of flashing red buttons covering the back panel of the station. “Uhhh… press… the red one.”

 

She gave him the blankest of blank stares. “ _ Which _ red one.”

 

He looked back at her with his own blank stare, mystified. “All of them, I think.”

 

Knowing that laughing at her expense would only end badly for him, their lone bystander shoved a gloved fist in his mouth to block the chuckles trying to force their way out.  _ Be supportive, Cayde _ . He kept reminding himself.  _ The key to a healthy relationship is trust! _

 

“Have you tried shooting it yet?”

 

“I’m not shooting it!” She exclaimed, incredulous.

 

_ Oh well. It was worth a shot. _

 

The Voidwalker reached out to try a button, finger hovering over a single dial where it stayed for a long second, before she dropped the arm and turned to face the console on her left instead. “Forget it. There has to be a wire, or  _ something  _ underneath here I can adjust that will make this thing work.” Shera proclaimed, kneeling down to remove its cover and insert half of her upper body inside. “I can see something flashing… a little light, Sheyar?”

 

Her teammate tapped his foot impatiently from the other side of the glass, wanting badly to get back in on the action. It had been so long since he was out in the field, and he wanted to make the most use of his time out here, shooting baddies. The sooner this was over, the better.

 

“Cayde, I can feel your foot tapping from inside this box. I’m going to be a minute, can you clear out the next cell block while I-- sss, ouch!” The junior technician backed out of the machine with the speed of a flying sparrow, tucking a now burning glove under her leg to put out the flames. A tiny plume of smoke rose from underneath.

 

“I’ll come join you as soon as I finish up here.” 

That was all he needed to hear. With a crisp salute and a swish of his cape, Cayde was out the door, and rolling down to the next fire fight with a fresh super to spend.

 

Three shots from a golden gun, and he already had a sizeable count of dead prisoners to whistle about as he strolled down the walkway, talking aloud as he went.

 

“16… 17… 18…” Cayde sang as he took down opponents, bringing swift justice to the prison the way he usually did: with sass, and with style. A Hive Knight put itself right at the end of his barrel, and the Guardian was about to count his nineteenth kill when a very loud, and very close echoing  _ boom _ and explosion of an artillery shell took it out first. Not a second passed before another knight went down further along the path, the victim of a similar strike.

 

_ Boom. Boom. Boom. _

 

More thundering shots rang out against the rubble and debris, scattering scraps of building and alien alike as they unloaded on their quarry--  _ his _ quarry-- before the Vanguard realized they were coming from the turrets lining the railings. He keyed his comm unit immediately. “Honey, is that you?”

 

“You bet it is!” She trumpeted back, all too pleased with herself. “Like my new toys?”

 

“Do I?” He echoed, watching in awe as the machines mowed down his opposition. “You’re lucky I didn’t notice them first!”

 

\---

 

It took time, a lot of bullets and even more snarky catchphrases exchanged between the fireteam and their enemies, but the upper levels were finally cleared. And with Petra checking the lower levels to ensure the high-priority prisoners were still in the proper places, the Guardians had a moment to breathe, take their fingers of the triggers, and wrap up.

 

Leaving the controls to take a look out over the rest of the jail, Shera stepped out of the security station door, and gazed out over the edge to view Petra’s progress down below. “All that sitting around and pressing buttons gotcha beat?” Her boyfriend poked fun at her through a call.

 

“No, but your battlefield banter exhausts me every day.” She shot back, engaging in the witticisms. 

 

It wasn’t true, of course. In fact, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Their little back-and-forths brought joy to her life; it was always one of Cayde’s most powerful abilities, the ability to make her laugh. Besides, it was fun playing with him, and meaningless banter with her lover almost never lost its flair.

 

With an edge of concern, the Warlock noted that Petra hadn’t returned from her foray into the last vault yet, and it was beginning to worry her. “Everything alright down there?” She messaged, a bad feeling growing in her gut.

 

“...No. No, no no no! It’s Uldren, he’s gone! This isn’t a prison _ riot _ , it’s a  _ prison break! _ ” Shera’s blood ran cold.

 

“The airlock on Deck Zero, it’s the only way out this far down. They’re going to escape!” Petra panicked, and the robed Guardian had to remind herself to stay calm. To think. Breathe.

 

She closed her eyes, and began exploring her options, remembering Ikora’s teachings. Her meditations. She knew she needed a way down, and fast-- safety was irrelevant. She also needed to block the way to the airlock, if not by guarding it, then with something else.

 

The clearer her objectives became in her head, the clearer her choice of action became. Moonlight-silver eyes flashed open, sliding downward to study the walkway at her feet. Next, they directed themselves upward, at the flimsy, aching cables still holding the station in place. In her hand, a void grenade was already charging.

 

“Petra, Cayde.” She addressed, her decision finalized, only the news of it seperating thought from action. “I have an idea, and I need you to trust me on this.”

 

“Whatever it is, do it. Time is running out.” The corsair approved tersely.

 

“Oo! Does it include me?” Her boyfriend inquired, hopeful. She smiled a bitter smile, the edges of her mouth moving painfully against her wishes. She wanted to sound cheerful about this, upbeat, like he always was; at least that way she could leave him with some hope.

 

“Oo! Does it include me?” Her boyfriend inquired, hopeful. She smiled a bitter smile, the edges of her mouth moving painfully against her wishes. She wanted to sound cheerful about this, upbeat, like he always was; at least that way she could leave him on a positive note. But truth be told, this was going to hurt-- and being the one wearing the pants (robe) in the relationship, there were certain responsibilities she took upon herself in place of her beloved, but utterly stupid wildcard boyfriend.

 

“Not this time.”

 

Before she could change her mind, Sherazade detonated the cables.


	5. Chapter 5

_Petra remembers the moment Sherazade fell into the depths of the Prison of Elders, she can’t forget it. With a melancholic sort of nostalgia, she’s glad it happened how it happened, making the memory of it worthwhile despite everything that transpired afterward. It makes her feel resentful whenever she tries to forget it. It takes her years to decide that’s a good thing._

 

It happened all at once, giving no one time to process what had just happened. Only once the security hub had fallen past the level where she stood, its sole occupant glued to its surface by the void energy surrounding her feet, did she realize what had just transpired.

 

Sherazade had just taken the express route down to the airlock, performing a perfect, graceful Warlock bow as she passed out of sight into the hungry abyss below. Petra couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. In fact, she ran to the edge, nearly throwing herself over it to call down after her, Cayde’s voice joining in with her own.

 

“SHERA!”

 

\---

 

She definitely died, with that fall. When Sheyar revived Sherazade at the bottom of the prison thirty seconds after making impact, it was not a pleasant wakeup call; the consequences of her actions immediately presenting themselves in the form of a very sore spine and dust-choked lungs.

 

One coughing fit and a half later, she was back on her feet, clearing the mess from her eyes and squinting through the brine of cement permeating the air. She got a quick look at her surroundings, shadowy and lined with spurts of fire, before she remembered.

 

_My weapon!_

 

Thankfully, it wasn’t far away, its ambient violet glow making it an easy find. With its guiding light, the still recovering Guardian stumbled over mounds of crumbled cement towards it, ankles snagging on the uneven surface and bringing her down to her knees right over where it lay. It was little dented, but still in working order.

 

_Thank the Traveller I have this thing._

 

She reflected, relieved, with a fondness settling in her chest at the memory of the conflicts she’d persevered with it by her side. And after all this time, it still shot as powerful and true as the day she’d gotten it. Her hand wrapped around the grip, its stock automatically nestling into its usual position on the inside of her shoulder, helping her to reset her dials internally and bring her mind back to the here and now.

 

Sherazade returned to her full height, and began her search for the exit leading to the Deck Zero airlock, satisfied to find that the wreckage from the station had paved over and fortified the walls quite well. Now, she could call her fireteam.

 

“Cayde? Petra? Do you read?”

Static.

 

With alarm in his voice, Sheyar spoke up. “I think we knocked out the communication relay on the way down. I can’t reach them.”

 

Immediately after he finished speaking, however, the Warlock became aware of several things. First, the stench of ether in the air. Not smell, _stench--_ unlike the usual mellow, unusual scent she was accustomed to, this substance smelled sour and sharp-- stinging the inside of her nose and causing it to wrinkle.

 

Second, that there were many, many pairs of tiny aqua-blue eyes leering from dark from all around her, bright and hateful and accompanied by sinister hisses and clicks. Logic told her that they were Fallen, but instinct told her that they was something much worse.

 

Her suspicions became validated the moment the first Baron melted out of the shadows, a figure she vaguely knew in the back of her mind as the “Mad Bomber.” because of course it couldn’t only be Uldren that escaped his cell. It had to be all eight of his friends, too.

 

One by one they revealed themselves, looking down on her with searing disdain, and she began instinctively matching faces to names. The Mindbender, the Trickster, the Rider, the Machinist, the Sniper, the Hangman, and the Fanatic… he must be Fikrul. She’d heard stories about him from Cayde, and his army of corrupted souls.

 

Seeing them now put reason behind observation for Shera; in times that her boyfriend had attempted to describe them, he’d shivered and cut himself off. She could see why, now. Their very presence wreaked of wrongness, of something twisted and insulting that should have never been.

 

“Shit.” She cursed under her breath, grasping the nature of the situation she was now in; though she knew that now was not the time for panic and uncertainty-- she was surrounded, outgunned, and outnumbered. Not unusual for a Guardian such as herself, but things could go south quickly if she didn’t handle this carefully.

 

“It’s over, Fikrul. Put down your guns.” She demanded, her tone fierce and unwavering despite the building sense of horror she could feel rising in her gut. But she couldn’t show them fear, now. She can’t.

 

It didn’t matter anyhow. Her command was ignored.

 

The leader brought his staff down against the ground, its metallic echo reverberating off the unyielding walls of the metal chamber and passing its reverberations back and forth until the noise all but whispered among the shadows beyond her stand. She swore she could see the gallery of eyes brighten, then realized what that tap had meant.

 

Her pulse rifle went to her eye, where she focused down it in all four directions, alternating. Ready. Her heart pounded against her chest, blood rushed in her ears. This was going to be a difficult fight; she was on her own, in the dark, fighting for her life against Traveler knows how many waves of enemies. She could die here, she could--

 

 _No_.

 

She can’t think about whether or not she’ll make it through the battle, she’ll only ensure her defeat-- she reminded herself this, while breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Breathing in and out again. She can only do what she has always done, and fight.

 

Fight into the fading Light.

 

The first clawed arm gripped the refuse behind her, prefacing the another three, and then ten, twenty, thirty more. Horrid screeches and screams tainted the air settled at the bottom of the dank prison, but Shera ignored them and focused in, choosing targets.

 

_Pop pop._

One down.

_Po pop, pop pop, pop pop._

Five down. More coming. Six from the left side.

 

Her fist warped with a voracious energy as she let it charge, and waited. One second, two seconds, and as soon as the timing was right she hurled it into the mass of creatures, not even bothering to spare them a glance as their bodies absorbed into the circular vacuum, gone without a trace.

 

The grenade cost her precious space. Two creatures were now almost upon her, leaving no other option but to unholster her Zenith of Your Kind shotgun, and in the same movement it took to remove it, put it right up against first poor bastard’s chest. Its entire body rocketed backward, spewing something foul and blackened from its insides.

 

The next one got the same treatment, but this time to its face-- the last thing it saw was the clear, crystalline eyes of an Awoken woman who saw through it, as nothing more than another target, a trigger to be pulled. She fired the shining white and gold gift from the Emperor five more times into five more figures, and by the time the chamber was empty, she was ringed in a nest of splattered enemy corpses. But reload time was too precious to spare by replacing shells, so she rammed it back into its placement on her lower back.

 

An oncoming alien raised its makeshift club at her, warbling a high-pitched warcry. Noticing its approach at once, she raised a single open palm, and slammed it into its face, locking the elbow. In the blink of an eye, its entire body morphed into a sickly purple, then exploded on the spot, painting the surrounding battlefield in a spray of blackened innards. The melee ability gave Shera the momentum she needed to soar backward out of the killzone, and all the way to the top of the highest crag of fallen jail remains she could locate in the heat of battle.

 

From here, she was able to survey the fight more clearly; and locate barrels of what she hoped were explosive substances around the perimeter of her holdout. One shot to each confirmed her theory, and laid waste to a vast swathe of her opposition still cowering in the shadows.

 

Her advantage didn’t last for long. While she took down targets from high on her perch, a new healing rift beneath her feet, a soldier got wise to her strategy and climbed up the sheer wall behind her to tackle her off of the ledge, and sent the both of them barreling down into the chaos below, hollering in surprise and pain.

 

From where she lay prone, what little light remained in the chamber became blotted out by the shadowed faces of countless beasts, their clawed feet tearing at her robe as they kicked and tore at whatever part of her they could reach. The cruel, sharpened edges of their weapons burrowed into her flesh and she screamed in pain, her head wheeling as the wounds burned through all of her senses-- she had no other choices. Shera had to use her nova bomb.

 

She drew her arms back, and prayed.

**_FFSHOOOOM!!_ **

 

The crowd amassed around her dispersed and disintegrated, utterly obliterated by a single, massive detonation; but the move was too risky. The force of the blast had impacted her as well, bringing Shera within an inch of her life. Her limbs were failing to move, their muscles absent, useless. Liquified by her own void energy.

 

She was on her feet, but she hardly remembered rising, mind clouded by her own suffering-- the Voidlock felt like she was missing bones, maybe even limbs. From somewhere in her cloak, she felt Sheyar stir, anxious to administer first-aid but well aware of all the eyes still on them. “Shera, you need to get into cover. Now!” He hissed.

 

“If you die out here in the open… it’s too risky. You need to move!” The Awoken nodded in confirmation, bleary, and tried moving her legs. She stumbled and fell, uttering a choked cry. _It’s alright,_ she thought, using a trashed cell door to right herself.

 

_The pain makes me stronger. It keeps me aware._

 

However, this time when she stood, she came face to face with another soldier. It shrieked, and its putrid breath washed over her face, smelling like death and rotting flesh-- the Voidwalker almost vomited, right then and there. In that second before its fist collided with her face, she got a good look at what it really was.

 

It was, without a doubt, an abomination of nature.

 

Its flesh, once reinforced by tough carapace armor, was now stripped bare and took on the appearance of spongy, pale and deathly pockmarked skin. It looked like it breathed from all parts of its body, its walking corpse of a vessel still trying to operate from its appendages, maybe even independently. Its joints cracked around its limbs, revealing raw, sinewy muscle and bone. Around its fingers and especially its face, flesh peeled back to reveal the bloodless meat underneath, stained only by the sickening, corrupted ether she’d sensed before.

 

She was grateful to have her sight removed from its face, when the fist hit. Still, its image burned itself into her mind, only when she focused on the pain in the nightmarish sight’s stead did she gain the power to reach around and strike back, breaking its own spindly mandibles across its face. Another screech escaped it, rasping and agonized, and she just barely managed to evade its furious claws. Another strike caught her in the chest, however, pinning her against the door embedded in the rubble.

 

Nails buried themselves deeper into her chest, and Shera sobbed in pain, struggling weakly against its hold in fervent, failing attempts to remove its hand as it crushed into her. It was almost too late--  the suffocating coil of death was closing in, stealing her breath from her lungs. Just as her vision was about to fade entirely, Sheyar stirred again, this time wiggling out of her robe. “Sheyar, no!” She rasped, but the ghost didn’t, or wouldn’t hear her.

 

Out in the open, he began to restore his Guardian’s health, despite Shera’s desperate eye contact with her companion commanding him to get back.

 

He had only closed two wounds before a shot rang out,

And shattered Sheyar into a thousand pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

When a Ghost explodes, it’s not difficult to tell.

 

The resulting explosion of Light will emit a powerful shockwave in its immediate area, and scramble sensors even miles away from the epicenter. Guardians can feel it when a Ghost dies… but none so strongly as their own Guardian.

 

Shera stood there in disbelief, each millisecond that Sheyar’s Light streamed through her hair feeling like a thousand years lost in time. It was as if she were watching her life flash before her eyes-- her life with her most faithful companion-- Her Ghost.

 

_ A Little Light clearly just as frightened as she, unsure of itself and harried by trepidations borne of her own actions. She took a chance and emerges to greet it, and the little thing welcomed her with such warmth and kindness that she realized she hadn’t a reason to be scared in the first place. Shera extended her hand-- for somehow she felt compelled to do so, as if it was the proper action-- and inspired the odd thing to come and hover over her palm. It felt… right. Like this was the way it was meant to be, for them. Partners. _

 

_ Few partnerships have ever proven so valuable to as with Sheyar; who was always looking out for her, on the battlefield and off. And perhaps Cayde wasn’t his top pick for most eligible bachelor, but he was Shera’s, so he respected that. Eventually he learned that three could be a partnership too, and their strength was always growing. _

 

_ Their darkest hour fell upon them heavy as night, and still, there was nowhere she would go that he would not follow… and nowhere she, for Sheyar. On broken bodies and promises they limped through a world without Light, their strength abandoned them but never their loyalties. Partners, until the very end. _

 

The emptiness of solitude hit her so hard she wasn’t sure what to process, in that moment. Everyone imagines that their Ghost might die one day, or that there will be a death they won’t come back from… and every Guardian knows that the day will come when there will be only one, while silently praying that they’re the first to go.

 

Shera wasn’t so lucky, it seemed.

 

She viewed her surroundings, while seeing nothing. Her eyes only served to supply meaningless facts to a brain that wouldn’t respond.

 

_ The Barons are descending. The Fallen are closing in. The Hangman is approaching, his cesner is lighting up. _

 

Following the path of the flaming weapon as it ground against the floor in deafening, high-pitched screeches, her gaze fell to her side where the shape of her Graviton Lance, still intact, lay loose in her grasp. Something on its stock glinted against the shadowy gloom, and at once, Shera came to her senses.

 

It’s her family crest.

 

She’d had it engraved into the stock ages ago, using a coin both she and her sister bore. It was one of the few relics they possessed that belonged to their previous lives, and it proved that they were family. Sisters. Having the sigil close to her chest through all of her fights had always felt symbolic; it felt right, but now it served as a grim harbinger to the Awoken Warlock for everything that would come next for her family… and then everything that would come after that.

 

She could feel tears heating behind her eyes just thinking about Alcione. Allie, who was always by her side, on and off the battlefield, so different from her but so dedicated and loyal and loving for her friends and family. Allie, who tried so hard and fought against herself constantly in internal struggles only Shera saw. Allie, who would wake up one day and realize that she doesn’t have a sister anymore… and Allie would live on. She would have to live on. 

 

Overcome suddenly by an aggressive wash despair and anger, Shera concluded that nothing she could do now could get her back to that place again, by her sister’s side. Or Sheyar’s side, or Cayde’s, or any of the rest of her fireteam and Clan. This was it, no escapes or revives, the one and only  _ end of the line…  _ no turning back, now. The thought almost comforted her, in a way. At the very least, it was enough to steady her resolve.

 

“Sorry, Allie… but not this time.” Sherazade told the rifle softly, comfortingly, a conversation just between the two of them. Then she raised the rifle high, and centered it’s barrel between the dual sets of eyes glowering from the depths of her attacker’s face, determined not to let her last act as a Guardian go to waste. She will do what her kind does best… go down fighting. She pulls the Lance’s trigger for the last three times… 

 

… And doesn’t even feel it when the cesner hits. A blinding flash of fire and loss of gravity, then blackness. 

 

For a moment.

 

Shera came to seconds later, only to realize that there was still blood pumping in her veins, and air moving through her lungs-- though with great difficulty, and withered, raw gasps. She rolled off of her shoulder and onto an elbow, something fresh and warm oozing down her head to compliment the crackling moisture matting the side of her skull, currently. Confused, she tried to regain her bearings, her only perspective being whatever she could see at ground level. 

  
  


She didn’t get far. The Awoken knew what two broken legs felt like from previous experiences, and this time, it wasn’t any easier. She collapsed back onto her elbows, and then one elbow, with a croaking gasp. Her world reeled… until she spotted him, a slow-moving shadow hedging in her field of view.

 

A humanoid shape crossed over the light seeping in through the airlock grates, and Sherazade peered up into the darkened face of Uldren Sov, eyes yellow and intent like those of a cat as they studied her, expression unreadable. She laid there and let him circle around her cautiously while her blood gradually formed pools at her sides.

 

_ Probably too scared to approach. He knows I’d still try to kill him. _

 

The noted with some minute satisfaction, until she noticed her gun-- the Graviton Lance-- stowed away inside the Prince’s grasp while his tattered cloak cast spidery shadows over its surface.

 

_ That bastard! _

 

She opened her mouth to speak, and he took the opportunity to speak first. “I recognize you. You’re that idiot jester’s girlfriend.” He identified, his voice lilting mockingly with his brilliant deduction. “Which means  _ he’s  _ here. And what better way to complete my revenge than to end the life of the one he loves most?”

 

“Oh get-- hhack--  _ over  _ yourself.” She croaked, tiring of his intimidation tactics. If only she could goad him into coming closer, she might buy some time… “Does anything meaningful ever come out of your mouth? No wonder your sister never listened to you.” A flash of pure, unbridled fury flashed through Uldren’s eyes, and Shera smiled subtly at the success. He took two steps closer, her pulse rifle coming up to rest on his shoulder, and Shera turned over onto her side, grunting from the effort and the bruises covering her arms. 

 

“You do realize he’s going to show up any minute now… hhr gh… and stuff you right back in your little cubby hole, right?” She taunted, when the other Awoken brought a finger up to his lips and began gently shushing her, voice gentle and saccharine.

 

“This is going to hurt… a lot.”

 

_ No it won’t. I’m a Guardian, for god’s sakes. _

 

Nevertheless, Shera watched as her own prized weapon descended from her killer’s shoulder to aim right at her head, and she flipped over onto her back to get a good look up at the younger Sov. His eyes looked as dead as the amber stones she could liken them too, his mouth drawn downward, and the pulsating, writhing curse of Taken Darkness framed his entire face. In a word, he looked dreadful… a shadow of his former unbearable-- but complete-- self.

 

Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so angry about the misuse of property… and pitied the forsaken prince. “Oh, Uldren…” She crooned softly, and he almost pulled the trigger right then. Shera finally managed to push herself up to a sitting position, and look him dead in the eye. “If only you could know what it feels like  _ to be  _ **_loved._ ** ”

 

The barrel of her gun dropped and inch, and put two bullets in her heart. Void energy bloomed from Sherazade’s chest as she hit the ground behind her, never to rise again.

 

\---

 

Every second that Cayde fought the monster felt like an eternity. He couldn’t afford to spend time here, dancing around some Big Ugly when Shera needed his help  _ now _ , more than ever. The thought of her battling the Scorn alone out there, without her Ghost backing her up-- the thought scared him too much to even think about.

 

When the brute finally fell, he sprinted for the door, fingers working frantically to undo the lock. When it came open, the first thing he saw was Uldren Sov, framed in the airlock’s eerie red glow, all of the Barons he and Petra had worked so tirelessly to lock up crewed up alongside their precious prince. Upset, but not too upset to prepare a witty greeting, he opened his mouth…

 

Then the Awoken lifted a Graviton Lance, and waved it back at him. And not just any Lance, either…  _ Shera’s _ Graviton Lance. If Cayde had any blood in his body, it would have frozen in his veins, right then. It was as if his entire frame chilled through to his core, held in place, unmoving in every sense of the word.

 

_ No! _

 

Panickedly, he began searching about the room until his eyes landed on one body, lying on the floor midway between himself and the Barons. At that moment, time stopped, too. He couldn’t look away.  _ It was Shera. _

 

Now almost deaf to the world, he still managed to register the sound of Uldren speaking to him, as he stared down at the body in abject horror. “If only you were just a little bit quicker.” 

 

His blood went from ice cold to boiling in a split second. The Ace of Spades was drawn and firing at the door as it closed in front of Uldren and shielded him from the Vanguard, even after his smug smile had disappeared out of sight. He fired until the chamber was empty. Then, hand shaking, the gun dropped from his grip still smoking and clattered to the floor.

 

“Cayde…?”

 

He’s by her side in seconds.

 

“No, nonononono this can’t be happening.”

 

“Sssshh, baby calm down.” She cooed, a powder blue hand drifting upward, barely strong enough to keep itself aloft to his cheek. “You’re so-- hck hhh-- dramatic.” She devolved into a series of wet coughs and wheezes.

 

Sundance emerged at once, going right to the wound in the woman’s chest. “Oh… oh no… Cayde I--” She stopped herself, backing up, fins twirling emphatically as she gathered the right words to say. “There’s nothing I can do.”

 

Cayde wasn’t even listening to his Ghost, not fully. Right then, he was living in the moment more than he had ever been in his life, enough so that he feared with every passing second what would come next. He felt his lover’s hand sliding off his cheek and quickly went to return it, grasping it tightly. The whole time, his eyes never left her face.

 

“Heh. For the first time in-- HACK-- since I met you! You’re… hh… speechless.” She commented, eyes losing focus for a moment before forcing themselves back to his face, determined to stay with the one she loved for as long as she possibly could. 

 

_ Until the very end. _

 

“Never… thought I’d see th… heh… hhe day.” Her lungs are shutting down now, the subtle pushes of the organs against her chest proof that they were losing the ability to even cough. Seeming to recognize that her time was finally running out, she pressed on, a determined look hardened in her cool, gray eyes. Finally, his voice finds him again.

 

“Nooo, no no no don’t start talkin’ like that now. See, we’re gonna get you out of this, you’re gonna be just fine, now. We just need to… get you some help…” The exo’s tirade fades away when Shera starts shaking her head at him, wanting to speak.

 

“Baby, listen to me, this… this is important.” The Warlock beckoned, her voice just above a whisper. “I did what I… had… to. It just… didn’t work out… this time.” She closed her eyes for a moment and Cayde leaned in, praying she’d open them again.

 

“Oh hohoho oo, no you don’t. Open your eyes, Shera. Stay with me, we’re gonna get outta here, you and I. You and I, together. Like always. Always always always.”

 

Another hand came up to match its opposite, a feather’s touch on his other cheek. Much to his relief her eyelids parted, but they revealed irises that looked far, far away, already filled with planets and stars. They gazed deep into his own, wide as saucers and shining like the cores of dying stars. She won’t look away from him, ever again.

 

“Don’t leave me, Shera. I’m beggin’ you… please.” He squeezed the hand tighter, blue eyes blazing down at her.

 

“Oh Cayde, oh Cayde, Cayde, Cayde.” She whispered, voice complete with the love she held for him hanging off of every word, shining in the depths of her eyes, which sat so far back in their cores now that a veil had cast itself over her sight, pushing her further from him, further, further.

 

“Don’t you dare… ever forget.” The almost nonexistent pressure from her knuckles directed him to face her head on, her last motion to sincerity. “You were the best bet… I ever took.”

 

The unheld had dropped from his face,

and Sherazade,

the love of his life,

went cold in his arms.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> .....  
> ........  
> ........... So, uh...  
> ... Happy Birthday, Bio!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for a dear friend of mine, Biozonic! Sherazade (Shah-heerah-zod-ay) is her character, and I love her very much. If you enjoyed this fic, thank you very much for reading! I hope you will come to love this character as much as I have!
> 
> Find me on tumblr!  
> http://aurelious-auria.tumblr.com/


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